Last night, I had a dream that Arthur and I were saving money so we could take a trip to Hershey Park. Oh Hershey. I've only been there twice, and last time I went was five and a half years ago, but it's obviously left an impression.
Certainly it left an impression deep enough to write an eight post chronicle of the 2008 trip. I had such a good time writing about that weekend, that I found myself writing more accounts of my various other amusement park trips.
Eventually though, it got frustrating. I struggled to remember every detail. It began to become consuming an distracting. I was hyper focusing.
I have massive dejas vu. I think I've written about this before. Bitched about this before. I'm awfully redundant.
And I'm awfully critical of my own work. I find my own writing to be overly detailed and dense. At times, I find my literary voice to be unfortunately pretentious.
So how can I improve? How can I become a better writer? I am convinced that no one wants to read my style. I am utterly convinced that people find my style to be...boring. Hard to read.
I want to take writing classes at CCV. I'm wondering if I can get a grant, or something, take the classes. Figure out how to improve, and eventually get published. I figure if E L James and Stephenie Meyer can get their dredge and offal published, then my pothery and overripe ramblings could probably end up in print.
Right?
Right?
